The Water

The Extra Penny ~ Water

First of all, I hate my computer. Now, I’ll move on… I’ve always been drawn to water; the beach, the lake, the river, ponds. Water. I love it. It calms me and always has. Driving across an expansive bridge gets me giddy and it’s hard to keep my eyes on the road because I have to stare down at the water (it's always better if I'm the passenger). Is it calm? Is it ripply? Is it windy enough to actually make the water wavy? Are there sailboats, skiers, jet skis? Water. I have a fearful respect for it.
Sunday I went to a funeral in Guntersville. It was for a lovely great aunt of mine, who, by the way, I never saw without a smile on her face. She was one of many memories I had growing up, going to Guntersville Lake. I knew if I rode to the funeral with my mom and sister it would take me longer, but I also knew that I wouldn’t cross the causeway if I did. I love crossing the causeway. I also knew that if I rode by myself from Mom’s, then went home “the back way” I would get to cross TWO causeways across the lake to get home.
Heading home, my heart was giddy as I approached the first causeway. I looked to the right across the water as far as I could see. I caught a glimpse of my Aunt Elizabeth’s beautiful home and it made me smile to think she can wake each day and look at the beautiful lake. I glanced back to the road, driving slowly. I peered to the right again looking as far as I could to see if I could catch sight of a familiar round stone area by a pier. I don’t. It’s too far away. It’s where I used to swim with my sisters. I see men in boats looking as happy and peaceful as children. Turning left and driving past the park, I pass an overlook that I remember Granddaddy taking us to when we were kids, to look at…the water. As I get to the next causeway, the one that is soooo high up, I turn left and slowly creep across it. My heart pounds and I wonder why I am so drawn to water; why I wanted so badly to be there, anywhere, there is water. Then it hits me as I look at the lake. I see it, hear it, and feel it. I am very young and in the boat with Daddy. He’s letting me steer… the wind is whipping my hair, the water is spraying up, we are all laughing. And everything was ok.
I think of the dock across from Granny and Granddaddy’s where we would go swim in the Guntersville Lake, and everything was okay. I remember Smith Lake when I was about 5 years old and terrified to jump off the pier, but there was Daddy to catch me. He missed. I learned to swim. But he stayed right there, holding me, making sure that everything was okay. The water. Everything was always okay there.
After Dad died, I remember going to Smith Lake with Mom, my sisters, and friends. There was laughter, picnics, silliness…and I knew everything was still going to be okay. There were days of swimming with my cousins at Uncle Walt’s, the most peaceful setting I’ve ever known in my life. I let my own kids dive in with their cousins, impromptu a few years back… and again had that feeling that everything in life is going to be okay. My kids’ dad taught me the art of sailing. Gliding across the water on Watt’s Bar and even down on the ocean brought me a peace I can’t explain (and those who sail, know it’s a lot more work than it looks!). I am grateful for those experiences.
The water. Once my sister and I were on a catamaran on the ocean traveling from one place to another and for a few brief moments we lost sight of land. I realized what respect I have for the water, but I wasn’t “afraid” really. I still knew everything would be okay.

The water. I’m sure everyone has something that brings a calming peace to them like the water does to me. I’ve always said that one day, one day I want to live on the water; to wake each day and see the sun sparkle like diamonds on the surface of the water and feel that peace every day. Until then, I’ll let my heart do little flip flops as I cross the causeways. I’ll smile to myself every time I see sails on the water, or listen to my own kids tell me about their boating experiences with their dad and grandparents. I still get that peace near…
the water.

Becky W.
April 19, 2011